


Peace and Quiet

by westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-04-04
Updated: 2008-04-04
Packaged: 2019-05-30 13:33:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,585
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15097712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist/pseuds/westwingfanfictioncentral_archivist
Summary: Josh is driving Donna crazy, so she finds a way to calm him down.





	Peace and Quiet

**Author's Note:**

> A copy of this work was once archived at National Library, a part of the [ West Wing Fanfiction Central](https://fanlore.org/wiki/West_Wing_Fanfiction_Central), a West Wing fanfiction archive. More information about the Open Doors approved archive move can be found in the [announcement post](http://archiveofourown.org/admin_posts/8325).

Donna sighed into her boiling hot cup of Starbuck’s coffee, which she’d pleaded with her assistant to fetch her and accepted gratefully at her hotel room door only moments before. Tonight was not going well for Donna, to say the least. She’d escaped an eleventh-hour Santos fundraiser and ducked into her room to engage in some final ruminations of their campaign strategy, which would prove either brilliant or an utter and dismal failure by this time next week.

She adored Santos by now, loved working for him, enjoyed his friendship as well as his wife’s, and desperately wanted the man to win. But they’d been adrift in a fog of doubt for so long, absent all real perspective in the midst of the campaign pressure-cooker, that she didn’t know what to think or how to feel about their chances. Donna wanted to temper her hopes and expectations, something she’d discovered was wise over the years; but the blind optimism exhibited by their donors out on the ballroom floor - and by nearly every Democrat with money or special interests at stake - made this difficult. As a result Donna was on edge, and she was afraid.

At the moment she was curled up in her wine-colored formal gown on the desk chair, sipping gingerly at her coffee, which would be too hot to drink for another 10 minutes. Stacks of polling data, financial information, ad-buys and other media targeting materials were piled on the desk surface in front of her. She wanted to push it away, she wanted to push it all to the floor. CNN was on the screen – she wanted to turn the TV off and hurl it out the window, right into the courtyard pool. Her cell phone, beeper, Blackberry, and wireless headsets were stacked in her purse, tense and threatening. They could go off at any minute, and then she would be dragged back to the circus.

It was late, nearly midnight. The reception had to be winding down by now, so hopefully she wouldn’t be missed. Donna eased out of her shoes and turned off the overhead light, so only the desk lamp glowed. Thankfully she was still feeling buzzed from the complimentary champagne, or else these quiet moments would be extremely unpleasant for her: she so seldom shirked her duties that even being absent from the reception left her with a feeling of intense guilt. She should be out there schmoozing with the rest, she thought, smiling and displaying confidence for the sake of all her hardworking colleagues.

Screw it, Donna thought to herself. Screw it, just this once. And then there was a light knock on her door.

She set her coffee down, uncurled her legs, and stood up. Chances were it was Lou or Ronna, wanting to check in and compare notes on tomorrow’s schedule before bed. But a funny feeling shot down her spine as she went to the door and opened it without bothering to check the peep hole.

There stood campaign manager Josh Lyman, hair wild, bowtie loose, face irate.

This man, this man who infuriated and incensed her more easily and more often than anyone else in the world, had arrived at her hotel room door. Dear God, why him, she thought tiredly.

But aloud, she said, "Hey…come on in."

Josh walked forward, his step a little shaky. "I saw you sneak away from the party," he accused. "Figured you were somewhere boozing it up, chain-smoking cigarettes."

"What do you need, Josh?" She tried and failed to keep the snap out of her voice.

"I need to vent about god damn campaign finance reform, that’s what I need," he said, starting to pace the room in that familiar way of his, albeit a little more crookedly than usual.

Instantly her nerves went jagged. No shop talk, she begged the universe. Just until tomorrow morning, that’s all I ask. But she stayed silent and watched him pacing. His open tux jacket hung loosely on his lean frame as he moved – Donna was struck, yet again, by the boyish elegance of his profile, his unconscious grace of movement even while agitated and half-drunk.

Unfortunately she could tell Josh was just getting started, really working himself up, from the way his hands rubbed together reflexively. "He keeps speaking out and they keep asking where our money is coming from," he was saying, "like some endless, shrill, destructive cycle. It’s too cheap and easy to get pegged as a hypocrite these days, the press has no sense of nuance, he has to watch his step."

Josh spun around to see if she was listening to him – her forehead was resting in her hand, but she was paying attention.

"We have this truce - if you can call it that - on the attack ads, but we’re getting down to the wire now, and any minute now they could come out with something devastating that we’d be unprepared to counter. If there was ever a time to break the rules, this is it. I’m thinking of just going over his--"

"Josh," Donna said sharply, and he fell silent for a moment. "This" – here she gestured broadly at him, at his frenetic presence – "is why I snuck away from the party. This is what I needed to get away from. Campaign talk."

He laughed incredulously. "That’s a little unrealistic, don’t you think? We’re a week away, 6 days tomorrow. There’s no escaping the issues. Or the press. Or the polls."

"Just tonight, until bedtime," she said quietly. "That’s all I ask."

He regarded her for a moment, then exhaled sharply and let the stale adrenaline leave his body. His form sagged; his hair was gently mussed from his hands running through it.

"Yeah," he said. "I know what you mean." He turned away for a moment, then back. "You still have that Ohio data? I need an unmarked copy."

"Right here on the desk." Donna went to grab it, hoping he’d just take it and leave if he couldn’t stay and be quiet.

"Ohio, now that state has been the bane of this campaign since day one. Our Achilles heel. Bram’s been on the phone with the Governor, who could have been stumping for us weeks ago--"

Midway to the desk, Donna turned in disbelief. "You said you’d shut up, Josh."

"My head won’t shut up, so how can I? How could I shut up, Donna? There are a million things to consider, so much crap to be weighed and all these important calls we gotta make--"

Josh continued to talk and move restlessly, taking for granted that she’d listen to him. Well, why shouldn’t he take it for granted? She always listened to him, little doormat that she was. For one weak, tired moment Donna felt like crying.

Instead she dropped the Ohio file to the carpet, walked over and turned off the TV with a vicious jab at the power button.

"—and they’re acting like it’s not a commonplace thing in politics, trading favors. Santos has kept his hands remarkably clean all through this campaign, and I want to maintain that, but all these ridiculous accusations are starting to fly around—"

Donna’s gown trailed on the floor behind her as she walked decisively over to Josh, looked him squarely in the eye, and took him by the shoulders.

"—And I don’t know what to…what to…"

Josh trailed off as she shoved him backwards.

"Uh, Donna, what--?"

Then Josh found himself pushed firmly and inexorably into the seat of the desk chair. Holding him in place with one hand, Donna cast around for a moment and then grabbed the long cord of the lamp. She wound it quickly around his body and the back of the chair, and tied a hasty knot. He was too surprised to struggle.

"Listening to you would be enough to drive any normal person to suicide," Donna said fiercely. "But I’m choosing another path. Let’s see if this shuts you up."

Without hesitation, she sank to her knees in front of him and unbuttoned his black tux pants, loosening the fly just enough. If she was correct in her calculations, he’d had just enough to drink to be sufficiently incapable of escape; or incapable of mustering the desire to, for that matter.

One hand she placed on his upper thigh, warming the skin through the fabric – the other drifted up to his crotch, and began stroking there softly.

*

Josh was literally shocked into paralysis.

The lamp cord around him really wasn’t an obstacle – he could get free if he had a clear head, and full use of his limbs. But he didn’t. Because both were immobile with shock.

He looked down at Donna’s fair hair, slim white shoulders, and deep red gown settled gracefully and purposefully between his legs. Without missing a beat she pushed his knees further apart, and at that moment he regained the use of his vocal chords.

"Donna!"

She looked up.

"What – I mean – stop!"

She responded, quite calmly, "No."

"You can’t…" he said weakly, trailing off and wriggling a bit in the chair.

"On the contrary, I think I can."

Donna’s hand darted deftly into his pants, seeking out the open fly in his boxers. He was powerless against the sudden warm touch of her hand on his bare skin – but his eyes were still goggling down at her.

"Donna…" he attempted, still more feebly.

Unexpectedly, she dragged her nails down the smooth fabric of his pants, and he gasped.

"I told you, Josh," she said coolly. "Be quiet."

And she maneuvered his rapidly hardening dick through the fabric and out into the open air.

"What…are…you…" he sputtered.

Then the power of speech left him for good, because Donna made direct eye contact with him and moved her mouth purposefully towards his growing erection. Her expression said she was still frustrated with him –almost angry – but there was a gleam of triumph behind her eyes that made him throb with sudden need.

"Donna—" he hissed, as warm lips and a tongue lovingly enveloped the head of his dick.

She didn’t lose eye contact with him as one of her palms slid slowly over his thigh, and the other gripped the base of his shaft; she leaned forward and let her tongue trace down the sensitive skin confidently. Then, flutteringly, teasingly, she moved up to the head.

"Donna," he repeated, but this time it was a deep groan. "Oh…God." He dropped his head back, but he raised it back up again quickly; he found he needed to keep watching.

Her tongue teased him some more – then, without any warning, she pulled his cock fully into her mouth, forming a tight channel with her lips. She moved slowly up and down his length, still watching him carefully, still lightly stroking his thigh.

"Jesus…."

He stared down, breathless, hypnotized.

She kept that motion up for maybe thirty more seconds, then pulled back. Cool air rushed over his wet skin. He gasped, awash in sensation.

"Josh," Donna said in a low voice, "I have a question. When’s the last time you got a blowjob?"

Josh’s hands were gripping the seat of the chair, white-knuckled. His eyes were fixed on the distance between Donna’s lips and his dick, which had twitched when she’d said the word ‘blowjob.’

Donna. This was Donna, giving him head. Lovely golden-haired Donna.

"Been a long time," he said vaguely.

She smiled, but it was to herself. "You don’t know what you’re in for, boss."

Her hand released him for a moment. She reached around and unzipped her dress, then pushed the bodice down. Not too far, but far enough to expose ample amounts of pale cleavage, and just the very tips of candy-pink nipples.

He whimpered in the back of his throat at the sight of her revealed skin. His breathing was quick and jagged.

Swiftly she returned to his slick erection. Briefly, her palm swept over the head, and he moaned instantly.

She lowered her tongue to him and began teasing him mercilessly once again. Her other hand fluttered up to graze his cloth-covered chest and abdomen. It traced down his right arm to the wrist, skipping only the hand before returning to his thigh for balance once again.

She dragged her nails down the fabric a second time, and he groaned, loud and immediate.

Donna’s lips and tongue kept working; Josh’s breathing quickened even more. He managed to work one arm free, and reached down to her milk-white breasts. He wanted to touch her, to feel her softness for himself. But Donna pulled just out of reach, and he grunted with disappointment. The expression in her eyes was unreadable.

Then, with hardly any warning, he was buried entirely in her hot mouth. She began bobbing up and down more quickly.

"Oh my God," she heard him whisper plaintively. "Oh my God."

Gauging roughly how much longer she had, Donna slowed down a little, letting her tongue wander over him again; then she gradually took more and more of him in her mouth and increased her pace. His moans betrayed the savage intensity of his pleasure.

Donna’s eyes never moved from his as he climbed, dizzily, toward his peak.

She sped up a little more, and the look in his eyes grew wild.

"Donna," he panted, breathing harshly, leg muscles twitching. He was so close, his voice was no more than a rasp. "Why are you doing this?"

She made no answer, only sped up further and kept her eyes locked on his. Josh’s eyes bore back into hers, helpless, imploring. Her other hand clutched at his leg, nails digging in almost painfully; a second later he shouted, then again, then a third time; his eyes crashed shut, his mouth tensed and then slackened; his pelvis thrust forward and a warm wetness burst into her mouth.

"Oh," Josh said then, and the syllable was drawn out; hoarse, yet wavering like liquid.

He sat in a temporary stupor as Donna stood up, fixed her dress, untied the lamp cord quickly. He was very aware of her body as it moved around him, warm, graceful, no-nonsense. "Pathetic excuse for bonds, huh?" she murmured, and her mouth was close to his ear, her breath warm on his skin, smelling of sex.

She moved away then, and suddenly Josh was free to go. He just sat for a moment. Then he refastened his pants slowly and stood up.

"I’m going to bed," Donna said without inflection, moving to the far end of the room. "You probably should too – 5:45 wake up call."

"Yeah," he said, but his voice was full of confusion and doubt. He was at the door but he hesitated for a long moment, wanting to say something, not comprehending.

Donna turned around to see him still there. "Go ahead, go," she said. The ghost of a smile, sad amusement, flickered at the corners of her mouth. What Josh didn’t know was that her own sex was wet and dripping with arousal from the encounter, and she intended to have her own pleasure once he left. "I told you, I just want some peace and quiet."

Josh walked out just as she was unzipping the dress again, this time to pull it off and change; he heard the dress fall to the floor, the whisper of it against the carpet. He felt his heart contract as the door clicked shut behind him.

~

The End 

Thanks for reading.


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